


Hypnopomp

by stalksoftly



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Drug Use, Established Relationship, Halloween, LSD, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-10-21 10:45:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10683699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stalksoftly/pseuds/stalksoftly
Summary: Josh has a near-death experience. It becomes Tyler's primary fixation.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I'd just go ahead and post the first chapter because somehow I feel more motivated to write when part of the story is out there.

The lurch, the impact, the metal folding around his body like a destructive cocoon would be enough to change anyone.

The gentle hum of "I need you so much closer" drifting from the speakers of his radio, the way it becomes quiet, muted, and fades to static echoes in and out of his dreams for months after. 

The smell of iron and the hot heat of life dribbling into his mouth stains his senses for months after. 

For months, climbing in the driver's seat feels like he's being hit all over again. For months, sitting behind the wheel leaves him breathless, reminds him of splintering bones, reminds him of gurneys. 

"3 minutes," the doctors will tell him. 

That's how long Josh was dead. 

That's how long Josh spent in another realm. 

That's how long Josh's soul detached itself from his body. 

That's how long Josh tasted heaven. 

Or, those are the conclusions Tyler will jump to while Josh is still placid beneath the winding snakes of tubes keeping him tethered and alive. 

Those are the conclusions that Tyler makes his creed after Josh regains consciousness, after he tells Tyler how being brought back to life felt like his soul was being shocked back into his body by a pair of cardiac defillibrators, although the plump nurse by his side will add that they weren't needed.

To Josh, it was only a simile. Still battered and hazy with pain medication, it was the only way he could explain it. 

Seeing the spark ignited behind Tyler's eyes makes him slow down. Tyler's prodding questions make him stop altogether. 

"Was there a light?"

"Huh?" Josh asks back, eyebrows knotted. 

"Did you see any angels?" Tyler's voice creaks, raises in pitch. Josh winces. "Did you talk to God?"

Josh doesn't answer. Josh can't give straight answers about what happened after all the blood loss, after his vision turned to snow. 

"I'm tired, Tyler," he croaks weakly. 

"But-" Tyler tries again, unable to relent his fixation. The nurse interrupts him.  
"Let him get some rest, yeah?" she bites. "He's been through a lot."

Tyler finally pipes down and shoulders his ukulele bag. Still all good intentions, he'd brought it along to sing for Josh, but now's not the time. 

He presses a kiss to Josh's forehead, the side still white and clean, the yin to the yang of the galaxy of bruises on the other side of his head. 

"Love you," he murmurs, mind already elsewhere. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Josh sighs, relieved, naively thinking the brunt of Tyler's questions are over. That the brunt of the impact of his accident is over. The crash is only the first in the series, one battle in the war. 

He nestles into hospital sheets that feel like paper and closes his eyes while the nurse fiddles with his IV.

Josh sleeps. 

Josh dreams of little boys crushing toy cars with their hands. Josh awakes with a start when the cars drip blood, emit screams. 

-

The accident changes Josh. A near-death experience would change anyone, really. 

Even as he clings to nurses and allows himself to be dragged to a toilet, rigid and weighed down by casts and bandages, Josh reverts to a younger, brighter version of himself. 

Contortions of pain turn into squinting smiles. 

Even as he's practically breaking Tyler's fingers as the doctors feed a needle into his arteries to check blood-oxygen levels, he's cracking jokes that make the serious professional titter.

It's no surprise the nurses will drop a bouquet of sunflowers into his lap when he's discharged, when Tyler wheels him home. 

It wasn’t like Josh wasn't jolly before, but his fear of social interaction gave him an unwanted air of stoicism. 

Now, Josh, with his hair yellow and smiles breaking across his face in waves every other minute, Josh looks like the sun rising over the wreckage of his limbs. 

Nightmares plague his sleep, but the way he wiggles his toes and scarfs down breakfast wouldn't reveal that.

Tyler, so in tune with Josh's thoughts from living and breathing together in the same space for years, Tyler takes note. 

As the doctors dial back the opiates in Josh's cocktail of medication and his smile starts to show strain, Tyler plucks out songs about the sun rising again, about triumph in the cycle of hardship.

"You're my sun," he says, now pressing a kiss to Josh's lips. 

Tyler is sweet, careful with Josh, a crutch in his recovery even after long shifts of toiling behind the register of Taco Bell. 

It doesn't stop him from noticing the change in Josh, from studying him carefully with a curious expression. 

Josh doesn't quite notice at first, while his bones mend and his skin fades back to soft white, too wrapped up in his cheerful reawakening. 

The accident changes Josh. 

Even more than Josh, it changes Tyler. 

Only after Tyler wheels him home, sweating and grunting as he pushes his wheelchair uphill, later over the threshold of their home, only then does Josh start to notice Tyler's transformation. 

Josh can see it in the furrows in his face. 

Josh can see it when he starts to prod, gently, with displaced questions. 

He always starts out gentle. 

Tyler always asks what happened first, as if he doesn't know. 

"So what went down that night?" The question tumbles out of him at breakfast, or as he's counting Josh's medication for the nightly dose. 

Josh always gives him a bewildered look. Despite his cheer, the question starts to feel like gnats peppering his vision. Always there, small, but gnawing and annoying. 

"You know what happened, Tyler," is what Josh usually says, face tired but still smiling. They both start out gentle.

As if he didn't see the aftermath of the wreckage, as if the doctors didn't include him in a lecture on blood-alcohol levels and driving, holding Josh's hand as he turns his head down, heavy with shame. 

But Josh knows that Tyler knows, and Josh knows that's not what Tyler wants to know. 

The questions start out gentle, until they become more pressing. Josh feels the weight of them on his chest, feels the conviction Tyler threads into them. 

"You were out for three minutes," Tyler says over dinner, pushing around Taco Bell leftovers with a plastic fork. 

Josh nods, tired, so tired. "I know," he says, stuffing his face to muffle words he doesn't want to let out. 

"Are you sure that nothing happened?" Tyler says, raises an eyebrow. His gaze lingers on Josh; his eyes grill him until Josh feels like he's burning. 

Josh shrugs, evasive like always. 

"Like, you didn't see anything?" he continues, still refusing to touch his food. "I mean, you act differently now. Not that I'm complaining. But it really seems like you saw something that… moved you." 

It's the ether Tyler wants to know more about. 

It's the ether Josh can't tell him about. Usually warm and open like the favorite copy of a well-loved book, especially with Tyler, Josh keeps his lips sealed on this subject. 

Normally patient and doting, the questions feel like a hard pebble in Josh's shoe. 

He grimaces, kicks one of his legs under the kitchen table to personify his nervous energy. 

So tired, smiled faded, Josh just says, "I don't want to talk about it."

Tyler swallows dryly and nods. Years of companionship have lent him a spyglass into Josh's inner world, but the accident has smudged his view. 

The disconnect does neither of them good, but lost in his newfound optimism, Josh doesn't give the feeling any note, not right now. 

Without a direct answer from Josh to bounce off of, Tyler's thoughts start churning on their own. 

\--

Weeks pass until Josh is able to return his chair to the hospital, until Josh is able to navigate the apartment with just shaky limbs and the aid of a cane. 

After brushing his teeth one night, keen on keeping his smile bright like sunshine, Josh hobbles to the bedroom to find Tyler with his nose buried in a book. 

Buried six feet under in the story, he doesn't look when Josh's form causes a dip in the mattress. 

Josh eyes the book. "To Heaven and Back," he reads and his brain roves with the new information in tow. He braces for impact and hopes for the best.  
"What're you reading?" he offers, as he lifts the covers to get comfortable next to Tyler. 

"I'm reading about this doctor's near death experience," Tyler starts immediately, eyes still on the page. "She died during a kayaking trip and went to heaven. She's explaining proof of the afterlife."

Josh swallows, gulps. He nods. Tyler's enthusiasm makes him want to squirm but he won't allow any emotion to well over.

"She describes this bliss, this light, and these glowing figures- angels- telling her to come back," Tyler says, tongue poking out between teeth. 

"That's interesting," Josh says, not insincere, allowing his cold fingers to creep under Tyler's shirt and rest on the warm skin of his back.

"Isn't it?" Tyler licks a fingertip to turn the page. He adds, "Does it sound familiar?"

There it is again- the impact he knew would come- and Josh heaves a deep sigh. He withdraws his hand to the chagrin of Tyler. 

"Hey," Tyler squeaks, "Put your hand back." 

His eyes finally leave his book, momentarily pulled out of the story. 

Josh placates him with kisses, on his cheek, down his neck. "I'm going to sleep, yeah?" he mumbles, muffled, from Tyler's neck. 

Tyler sighs, trying to smooth his face and any hint of disappointment. Josh tries to hide that he can see through the façade. 

"Good night, babe," Tyler says, reaching across Josh to flick off one of the bedside lamps.

"Good night."

Josh rolls to face the darker side of the room and nestles himself into a cocoon of sheets and pillows. 

As his breath becomes more shallow, Tyler reads until the sunlight creeps out and renders his bedside lamp useless. 

Josh jerks, whimpers in his sleep, shields himself from imaginary dangers. 

\--

It's when they're working on music and Tyler is struggling with the bridge of his latest song that Tyler's yearning for any kind of truth comes undone.

Josh, sitting behind his drumset, with his feet off the pedals as his legs still ache too much to use his kickdrum, he hides behind the tambourine in his hands. 

It's when Josh quietly mutters, "Death inspires me like a dog inspires a rabbit," that something breaks inside Tyler, but Josh doesn't know it yet.

His hands under his thighs, he looks anywhere but Tyler. 

Slack-jawed, Tyler looks only at Josh. 

He smiles, only half-sweet. "Where'd that come from?" It's a good line, Tyler knows, and bless his heart, uncharacteristic of Josh. 

"Just something I thought of after, uh." He stops to rub the back of his head, to signal his discomfort before Tyler tries to drag him into territory he doesn't want to explore. Josh exhales through pursed lips. "Yeah," he finishes. 

"Alright," Tyler says, still hardly sweet. He squints, turns up a corner of his mouth, and leans over his notebook to jot down the line.

He works it in the fifth or sixth time they're plowing through the song, molding the notes in his throat until he has the perfect fit, the perfect haunting melody. 

Josh's hands sweat, Josh rubs his thighs, eager to drum something while Tyler serenades him with his own words. 

It's a good line, and Josh knows it. Josh knows Tyler knows it, too. He can't help the live wires in his veins, the sparks moiling his lunch faster than he'd like. 

He tries to swallow the regret, tries to focus on constructing a beat and slamming his palms into the tambourine until they turn pink. 

The bits of the song finally fall into place and he can't help his relief when Tyler mutters, voice uncharacteristically low, "That's a wrap for today."

Josh gives a toothy grin but Tyler's eyes are focused on something beyond him. 

\--

"It's something you wouldn't understand, Tyler," Josh says, biting his lip. "It's like if I spoke to you in Russian right now, or tried to explain the color red if you were blind. You'd hear me, but you wouldn't understand."

Tyler's driving him to a physical therapy appointment. Josh, recovering bit by bit with every day, he still doesn't the trust the ache in his legs and their control over the breaks and pedals. 

Even as his body starts to feel normal, it'll take months for Josh to calm his beating heart, to overcome the harsh flash of panic as he takes a seat behind the wheel.

Tyler's driving him when he brings up the questions again, the probing, not so gentle since their last band practice session. 

"I want to see," Tyler says, "I want to understand." 

"You will eventually," Josh says, "Everyone will." Josh leans over his seat to rummage for something behind him. His hands twitch for distraction. The car, the metal cocoon, the steady beat of terrifying images, the stress of conversation, it's all too much. 

His hands roam and roam the backseat until he grabs a can of Redbull from their cooler.

His nervous grip crushes part of the aluminum and he shudders, steadying his breath. Tyler, usually ready to soothe him with a gentle hand to the knee, Tyler is too busy white-knuckling the steering wheel. 

Neither notices the other's discomfort, too lost in the prisons of their own minds. 

"You want a Red Bull?" Josh says, eager to pass on the can. His hand quivers.

Tyler looks off at nothing on the road in front of them. 

"Yeah, sure," he says, taking it from Josh. His fingers leave imprints in the condensation. "Thanks." 

A second of static silence passes before Tyler returns to earth. He musters a polite smile. 

He doesn't take his eyes off nothing.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well shit, I'm sorry this took so long? I've been working on it frequently, in small spurts, but I'm slow right now for whatever reason. 
> 
> I hope y'all know about Zozo.

Josh loves autumn because the leaves become most beautiful when they're about to die. 

As the air begins to grow a bite, as nature curls into itself and withers, Josh feels his bones begin to mend. 

The sun sets sooner and sooner each day, but with it, Josh's smile doesn't fade. This year, the season doesn't rob him of his charm. 

When Josh enters the apartment on Halloween, the curtains are drawn and the lights are off. Still, Tyler is illuminated, like a shrine, surrounded by candles. 

Josh furrows his brow, but doesn't assume the worst. 

"What's going on?" he said, balancing his groceries on one knee as he fumbles for his keys. With a gas station around the block, Josh doesn't feel the need to put himself through the arduous battle of fighting off intrusive thoughts when he steps into the car. 

"Thought we could play a little game for Halloween," Tyler muses, his voice like a rich cream. Josh shivers.

His eye narrow on the scrawl on the cardstock laid out on the coffee table before Tyler. He recognizes schematic. 

"A ouija board?" Josh asks, not pulling his eyes away as he locks the door. He raises his eyebrows, though he shouldn't. 

Tyler's arsenal has been growing, no matter how hard Josh tries to close his eyes and wish it away. The pedestal of books on mysticism on the bedside table, much like the one by the toilet, has only been growing taller since Josh's accident. 

His sleep is too spotty, too tumultuous for him not to be roused by Tyler's eternally shining bedside lamp, his tense body curled over pages and the soft scratching of pencil drawing a line of ants in the margins. 

After Josh's blatant disinterest to open a discussion on the subject, Tyler keeps mum on his new-found obsession with spirituality. 

Before the stout wall between them grew thick like callouses, their nights were filled with flesh on flesh, sweat, wailing. Before the accident, Josh cradled Tyler while his fingers swept the tissue paper pages of his bible, punctuating whispered verses with kisses. 

It was simple. 

Hushed "good nights," chaste kisses, and blatant refusal to acknowledge Tyler's bloodshot eyes and Josh's sputtering in his sleep are complex. 

After another fitful sleep of metallic, disjointed melodies and his own bones splintering like wood, Josh awakens with a start. 

Josh awakens feeling worn. 

As soon as his mind's eye adjusts to the room, he makes eye contact with Tyler, all harsh lines and thin paper skin in the soft light of dawn. 

Tyler squints. His eyes narrow, like his own mind's eye is just only focusing on Josh. 

Tyler's gaze dares Josh to speak up, to address the elephants, the nightmares, the obsession, the accident, the cheerful masquerade, anything, anything meaningful, I just want to know what's on your mind. 

After the haze clears, the fog between them lifts for a moment. Josh brushes aside the curtain and seizes Tyler's face with both hands. 

He kisses him, more spittle and more teeth than the early morning calls for. 

Torn from his rabbit hole of deep thought, caught off guard by the attack, Tyler gasps. 

Josh weaves his fingers through hair and pulls Tyler's head aside to expose the smooth valley of once-tanned flesh between jaw and collar bone. 

Tyler is a mess of mewling already, sprawled across his books, eager and willing to surrender to the infantry of Josh's hands and mouth. 

Josh buries himself in the crook of Tyler's neck and drinks in the peppery scent, the notes of soured laundry and sweat. 

He runs the tip of his nose over Tyler's skin, drawing up a sea of goosebumps. Josh aches. Josh aches from the weeks, maybe months, of lost physical contact. 

He takes a bite to satisfy his hunger. 

Tyler arches, taught like a bow. 

"God, Josh!"

But Josh, usually not so brazen, usually more demure, usually a passive but willing recipient to Tyler's touch, Josh swipes his tongue and drags his teeth until Tyler's neck is lined with pink stripes. 

By the time Josh eases up his attack of teeth and tongue, by the time he manages to slip his hand under the sodden t-shirt Tyler has been wearing for three days, Tyler is already putty, Tyler is already hot and flushed. 

His skin prickles, nerves sensitive, all alight. 

Josh peels off Tyler's shirt. 

His hands roam, skitter over ribs and dip into concave bellies. 

"Oh God," Tyler breathes. He moans more holy praise into Josh's parted lips before attaching himself with a kiss. 

Josh works a hand under Tyler and rolls him over so they're stacked on top of one another. 

Josh likes the firm weight on his crotch. 

He dips a hand under the drawstring of Tyler's tattered sweatpants and cups the warm skin underneath. 

"Hn," is all Tyler can muster. 

Josh starts to ease off the sweatpants, taking Tyler's boxers with them. 

Tyler exhales, sending a wash of breath over Josh's face, sweet with the taste of artificial sugar and last night's dinner. 

He's pliant.

"I missed-" he starts. He's pliant enough for Josh to spread apart his cheeks with both hands and press a finger to his hole. "God!"

"You missed God?" Josh teases, tongue poking between pearly teeth. 

Cheekiness, light-hearted words mixed with groans. Josh missed this. 

Tyler rolls his eyes and mutters a quiet "shut up" into Josh's mouth. He rolls his hips against Josh's lap, some attempt to reclaim power. 

Josh groans. Josh massage's Tyler hole. He's still in power and his smile is smoldering, not quite sunshine, but a hotter burn. 

"W-what about you?" Tyler says, gesturing to Josh, still clothed, cock struggling to tent through tight leggings. 

Josh shakes his head. He motions for Tyler to climb off him. 

"Take those off," he says, tugging at the sweatpants, the boxers. 

Tyler does as he's told and shucks them off, his face burning. Completely nude, he straddles Josh again. 

"I like you like this," Josh says, using one thumb to softly stroke the dark curls at the base of Tyler's cock. 

Tyler's still, suppressing his urge to quiver. Tyler is flushed and demure, as Josh once was. 

Josh wraps one hand around Tyler's cock, palms his face with the other and says, "Now come up here and sit on my face." 

And Tyler complies. 

Josh is snapped back out of his recollection of the past few nights. 

"Oui," Tyler says, all grin. Josh can't read his expression through the flickering of dim candlelight. 

"I thought this kind of stuff scared you," Josh continues, crossing over to the adjacent kitchen. He sets the bag down with a huff, still eyeing Tyler tentatively. The game hasn't started, but Josh already feels something setting his veins alight. 

"It interests me more than anything, and besides," Tyler muses, dipping a finger into the tea light across from him. When he removes it, the tip is coated in a soft, protective shell. "Halloween is about being scared."

Josh shrugs. He can't argue with that. 

"What about the party?" Josh says, crossing through the living room to the kitchen. He sets grocery bags on the counter next to the mask he drew up. It's an alien. 

Simple, predictable. 

"You never show up on time to a Brendon Urie party," Tyler says. He has a point. Still, he already has on a dark shirt with painted on bones. They're broken in some places. 

Simple, predictable. 

"Come on," Tyler says, voice low. "Let's see if there are spirits in the house."

Tyler's whispering gives Josh shivers. His mind feels like soft toffee candy, with Tyler's voice working it over like teeth. 

Tyler gives him the same familiar toothy grin, impish and intoxicating. 

Josh ignores the shivers creeping down his spine. He toes off his shoes and returns to the living room.

He takes a seat across from Tyler. He tucks socked feet under his legs. 

Tyler slides forward the makeshift ouija board. 

"Thrifty," Josh notes. 

Tyler huffs through his nose. He slides over the empty shot glass by his side and cups it over the shaky "G" in the center of the board. 

Josh's eyes are glazed. He finds himself almost in a trance, with the dim lighting giving him tunnel vision. Tyler is the light at the end. 

"Josh," Tyler says, bringing him back to earth. "Put your hand on mine."

Josh complies. 

Tyler's hand is cool like a cadaver's. 

With his eyes cast down, he starts to speak, voice a low growl. Josh can't help but feel like prey. 

"If there is any sort of spiritual presence here, we'd like to speak with you now." Polite, as always. 

He's silent for a moment, so all Josh can hear is quiet breathing. 

Tyler clears his throat and begins again. 

"Is anyone listening?"

Silence again. Tyler's hand twitches. After a moment, Josh shrugs. 

"Maybe-" but as he's speaking, the shot glass begins to creep. 

A slow crawl, it inches its way to the crooked "yes" in the corner. 

Josh can feel the thrum of his pulse pound his eardrums. 

A smile slowly cuts into Tyler's face. 

"Excellent," he murmurs. 

"Tyler, you moved the-" Josh tries to add, but Tyler relentlessly talks on. 

"Spirit, we would like to humbly ask your name."

Silence, stillness, again, for just a moment. 

The shot glass begins to move again. 

Josh's breath hitches. 

"Stop," he breathes. The gleam in Tyler's eyes rubs him the wrong way. 

The shot glass reaches "Z". 

"Tyler," he says with more urgency. 

The shot glass reaches "O".

"Incredible," Tyler says. 

Josh doesn't think so. The tremor from his hands makes the shot glass rattle. 

It returns to "Z". 

"This isn't funny," Josh says. 

"Zozo," Tyler replies, as the shot glass completes its journey at the "O". 

A candle flame flickers and Josh yanks back his hand. His ragged breaths are loud, but Tyler just stares intensely at the board. 

There's more silence, with just Josh's labored breathing to fill it. 

Something rips through the air, and Josh jumps. It's the laugh tumbling out of Tyler. 

He laughs and rasps, until Josh reaches across the table and shoves him forcefully into couch cushions. 

"You dick!"

Tyler can hardly pull himself together. Dew drops gather in the corners of his eyes.  
"Josh," he wheezes. "Ouija board demons aren't real!"

He clings to Josh's arm, who's still tense with the aftershocks of fear. 

Tyler presses a kiss to his cheek, feather light and apologetic. 

"Let's go," he says. "Let's get ready for the party."

"Unbelievable," Josh says. 

\--

 

Brendon's party is a hit, as Brendon's parties tend to be. 

Josh feels himself at ease for the first time in a long time among his friends. 

This time, he isn't even drunk. His cheer has accompanied him to the party and all he needs is a single beer to hold and make him look a part of the group. 

Friends disguised by rubber masks and hidden under stringy wigs clap him on the shoulder, congratulate him on his recovery. A couple left him flowers while he was still a battered pile of pulp, unsure he'd ever be the same Josh again.

He's the same Josh, light dragging limp and all. If anything, with a sunshine smile and tinkling laugh, he's the same Josh, improved. 

At least that's how Josh sees it. 

He's snorting bitter suds through his nose and talking to corpse bride Hayley when he spots Tyler in the back of the apartment. 

Tyler is chattering with circus ringleader Brendon, close and hushed and quiet. Josh gives a queer smile. 

His smile fades when he sees Tyler slip Brendon cash, when Brendon uses his receiving hand to slip a baggie into Tyler's palm. 

Hayley's still going on about her choral studies, telling him and another rotting girl an amusing anecdote, but Josh's brows have furrowed. 

"Hey, I'm going to get another beer, do you want anything?" he says, interrupting Hayley. 

Unfazed, she shakes her head, gives his hand a light squeeze and sends him off into the torrent of bodies mingling throughout the apartment. 

Josh wedges himself through groups and couples alike, the thrumming music pounding in his head and irritating his urgency.  
Tyler has his back turned, ready to slip off into an unoccupied bedroom. Brendon has already slipped off to spill drinks on other guests and ignite them with his boisterous laugh.

Josh grabs Tyler's shoulder. 

Tyler spins around.

"Oh!" he gasps. "I was just looking for you."

Josh's expression is skeptical. Tyler knows he's transparent right now, despite the usual fog between them. 

"I want to share something with you," he continues, but Josh is already shaking his head. 

"I don't think I want whatever it is you just got from Brendon," Josh replies, voice already tense. 

Tyler shrugs. 

"You don't have to take it with me, but I'd love for you to be a part of the experience." 

Josh knows he can't talk Tyler out of an idea. He just nods, defeated, heavy with concern. 

"What did you buy?" he says. 

"Just a couple of tabs of LSD," Tyler says absentmindedly, thumbing the small baggie curled in his palm. Josh can see the miniature colorful squares, four of them, a little ragged from where their perforation was torn at the corners. 

He's pulling Josh into the dark bedroom next to them, devoid of costumed party-goers. 

Josh swallows hard. 

"Why?" he asks. 

"I've been reading," Tyler starts, and Josh nods. He knows Tyler has been reading, he knows what Tyler has been reading, even if he's been doing his best to press his face into his pillow case and block out all the philosophical notions Tyler won't let go of since the accident. 

"Psychedelics can totally expand your consciousness. Make you believe in something higher, maybe even change your life."

"You don't believe right now?" Josh says quietly. He thinks back on Tyler demanding proof, on Tyler teary-eyed and tense after Sunday services of the past. 

Tyler stays quiet. 

"I want to try something new." 

He pops open the baggie and carefully tears loose one of the tiny cardstock sheets. Josh makes notes of the quake in his fingertips. 

"Here goes nothing," he hums, and sticks out the tip of his tongue to pull the tab into his mouth. 

Josh takes his hand. 

"Let's go back with the others," Tyler says, pulling him back out into the bustle. 

So, Josh follows. 

\--

Moist and hot in his ear, Tyler whispers, "I don't feel anything."

Tyler whispers, "I'm going to take another one."

Josh tastes beer and bile in the back of his throat, but nods again. They're sitting on the couch, with Hayley and the other polyester demons and monsters and comic book characters. 

Josh hasn't let go of Tyler's hand, hasn't allowed himself ease back into light conversation with his friends. 

He doesn't know what's coming, but Tyler presses on in his journey. 

Nestled into the cushions of the couch, with everyone around them intoxicated, greasy face paint smudged beyond its purpose, Tyler licks his finger tip and picks up another tab. He tucks it under his tongue and smiles. 

He presses a kiss to Josh's cheek. 

It burns against his skin. 

\--

The acid hits while Tyler is taking a leak, with Josh hovering inside the bathroom just in case. 

The onset is gentle, but Tyler's depth perception is the first thing to go. He sees the toilet pull away from him, but somehow his stream of piss stretches with it. It sparkles and gleams, like a cascade of soft yellow pearls, into the bowl. Tyler can't remember his piss ever looking like jewelry. 

Aware of what's happening, he tries to reach for the bathroom counter next to him, heavy and imposing like a cliff, but misses it by half a foot. 

Josh can't see what Tyler sees, but notices the wiry boy start to sway. 

He places a hand on Tyler's shoulder as the other tucks himself into his pants and zips his fly. 

Alien mask abandoned on the tiled floor, Josh is the only earthling here. 

Tyler clings to Josh's hand, feels himself grounded as their palms melt together into a single unit. 

Josh feels his stomach turn. 

"Are you okay, Tyler?"

Tyler is more than okay. Josh can't see what he sees, but Tyler doesn't care. He points a finger at Josh's face and shoots him full of pink sparks. 

"I'm so good," he oozes. "And you will be too."

Josh doesn't know what that means. 

Tyler cards a hand into Josh's hair, and feels overwhelmed by the sensation. It's soft, but high definition, with each strand wrapping around his hand like a tiny serpent. The yellow hairs fuse to his hand. 

"We're connected," he says. 

"Yeah," Josh says, lips pursed. "You want to stay in here?"

"No, no," Tyler insists. He avoids looking in the mirror, knowing of the horror stories of tripping and too much self-reflection. He does he best to focus on Josh, the bare bones of Josh, stripped down to energetic pulses. "Let's be with the others."

Josh sighs and complies, flushing the toilet before he pulls the door open. He doesn't let go of Tyler's hand as they step back into the party. 

With colors undulating around him, casting waves in time with the beat of the music, Tyler's face pulls into a smile. 

With every semblance of otherness crumbling around him, Tyler feels complete ecstasy. No concept of self left, he says, "This is it."

"Hm?" Josh says, absentmindedly, too filled with concern to be excited. The valley between them extends miles. The callouses separating them feels like scar tissue. 

"This is what heaven feels like," he says. He wants to add more about the dissolution of his ego, his theories about unified consciousness, but concrete thoughts evade him. With the second tab of LSD taking hold, Tyler can hardly see. 

Instead, Tyler stares at his friends, who are bleeding fractal halos and positive feelings. 

"This is it," he whispers, his own voice sounding like a curl of smoke to him. 

Josh won't let go of his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, my LSD experiences have some practical applications. Hope you guys enjoyed!


	3. Three

Tyler tastes heaven.

Tyler tastes heaven for about 6 hours, until he doesn't.

For the better part of the evening, tripping until he can only see colors, until he has only a tenuous grasp left on his personality, Tyler enjoys himself.

The other partygoers are shit-faced, so they hardly notice how far gone he is.

Josh notices.

But Hayley doesn't notice when she flops down on the couch next to TylerandJosh, the unit linked firmly by sweaty hands.

She doesn't notice Josh's bouncing knees.

She doesn't notice Tyler's elated grin.

Instead, she wipes a hand over her face and smudges face paint.

"Oh shit," she huffs, only momentarily pulled from her mission. In other her hand, she has a bowl of strawberry candies.

With her sticky grey hand, she plucks one from the bowl, tears off the wrapper with her teeth and plops it in her mouth.

She takes another and waves it in front of Tyler's face.

With a swollen cheek hiding the stashed treasure, she spits, "Want one?"

Tyler takes the small flash of red before his eyes. The wrapper melts over his fingertips, like a dollop of soft ice cream.

"Hayley," he says, turning to her. She's shooting white sparks, pink waves, everything pure and beautiful Tyler can fathom. "You're the best person I've ever met."

Hayley grins, lopsided. She places a chaste kiss on Tyler's cheek, before flopping over to her best friend on the other couch cushion.  
Tyler grins.

Josh doesn't know what to feel. Josh doesn't know why he's feeling what he's feeling.

He places his hand on Tyler knee.

"You ok?" he says. He doesn't know if the question is for Tyler or not.

Tyler giggles, breathless.

"I know what you saw now," Tyler beams. "I know everything, God. It's incredible." So caught up in his gushing, wrapped up in the universe his brain is unfolding before him, Tyler doesn't notice Josh stiffen and tighten the grip on his knee.

"I don't think so," Josh mumbles under his breath.

"Hm?" Tyler asks.

Josh shrugs, and the night wears on.

All throughout his peak, Tyler is a mess of ecstasy and philosophical theory.

As he starts to come down, Tyler is a mess.

The world crumbled before his eyes and turned to fragments of light, airy color.

He almost can't handle seeing it all fall back into place, he almost can't stomach the puzzle pieces floating together, concealing the lights and colors with harsh reality.

Feeling ill, he wanders to the bathroom, Josh trailing closely behind him.

Tyler looks at himself in the mirror. He looks sallow. His zits swim around, his blackheads feel like a deep coat of filth.

He tries to pick away the impurities, but they swim away from his fingernails. Instead, he rakes up a ragged furrow of dead skin.

He cries out, he starts to weep, the tears feeling alien and wrong from the drug.

"Josh," he whimpers, and Josh opens the bathroom door immediately. A knotted jumble of nerves since the party, he hasn't left Tyler's vicinity once.

"Everything ok?" he asks again. This time it's for Tyler, who's looking more and more gaunt, a stark contrast from the placid smile on his face earlier.

Tyler shakes his head. He's white-knuckling the sink, quivering. The fall from his peak leaves him with a sharp, metallic taste in his mouth. Nothing feels right. He's caught in between.

"Is this how you felt?" he bubbles out. "Caught somewhere in between worlds? When you died? Was it this awful?"

Josh, stout like a rock, doesn't know what to say.

He opts for rubbing Tyler's back. With the alarm bells sounding in his head to not to take him back to the night of the accident, he opts for a nod. Maybe it'll be enough. Maybe it'll be enough to stop Tyler.

He knows it won't, but he nods and rubs.

Tyler flinches from the touch. It's too invasive, too alien. His vision swimming, he can't take note of Josh's answer.

He stares at himself and feels saliva form in his mouth.

"Josh…" he starts again.

Acid climbs up his throat and the heat from the pit of his stomach rises with it.

He vomits into the sink.

Josh quickly moves Tyler's hand away from the geyser, but can't protect them from the small spatters. Tyler wipes his mouth on his sleeve, and stares in the mirror, unable to discern zits from spittle from tears from residual hallucinations.

He turns away and plops on the closed toilet seat. He retreats into the warm darkness of his shirt sleeves, rocks himself soothingly.

Josh is left with the aftermath.

Josh is left with the mess, the urgency of the pounding on the door, the sunken expression of his own face in the mirror. �  
As he's unrolling a wad of toilet paper for damage control, he tries to breathe deeply so his tone won't come out as sharp as his emotions might form it.

"Tyler," he says quietly. "We have to go home after this, yeah?"

"Please," Tyler slurps into his sleeves.

\--

At home, Tyler still smells rust and tastes metal.

Josh places a bowl of cereal- no milk, just in case- in front of him, like a bowl of dog food.

Josh is the caretaker. Josh feels raw himself.

Softly, he says, "Try and eat something."

Tyler picks up a single Lucky Charm and pops it in his mouth, but it still tastes wrong, rusty and dry.

Tears form in the corners of his mouth. He picks up another, but staring at it fills him with unease. The tiny piece of cereal is filled with holes that make his stomach turn. His veins look like pulsating snakes under his skin. A blue and purple pattern of fractals dances over his palms.

He closes his eyes and shoves the bowl away. Pieces of cereal drop into the bed, but crumbs are the least of his concern.

"Mmm, I want to sleep," he says, rocking on the bed.

Josh places a warm hand on his back. This time, he doesn't flinch, welcoming the grounding touch.

"Do you think you can sleep?"

Tyler swallows hard; the LSD filled his throat with excess mucus. His skin prickles. He wants to cry.

"I don't think so," he says quietly. His body feels raw, but his mind is still unhinged.

Josh, the doting mother, kisses his temple. He stands and retrieves sweats and a large shirt for Tyler, not too keen on sleeping next to Tyler's nylon form splattered with bile.

"Just one second," Josh says, and leaves the room. He rummages through the medicine cabinet while Tyler rocks and rocks.

Calm and cool, Josh returns with an orange bottle. He uncaps it and pulls out a pill.

"Ambien," he says. "12.5 mg will put you out in no time. You can take it with LSD, right?"

Tyler doesn't know, but he nods anyway.

Josh hands the pill to Tyler. He forces it down, dry, pulling out more tears from the corners of his eyes.  
"Thank you," Tyler says. "Thanks for everything." He's solemn, already calming down by way of placebo.

Josh kisses him, soft and chaste.

"Don't mention it," he says, catching a tear on Tyler's cheek with his thumb. "Please don't do something like this again?" The suggestion is quiet, careful.

Tyler nods again, and unfurls himself to take off his shirt. He pulls on the new one mechanically, then shimmies out of his jeans to pull on the plush sweatpants. The material doesn't feel right, not like it used to, but it's warm.

Finally, he crawls under covers and nestles in his pillow.

Josh, already clad in pajamas, joins him.

Tyler's breathing slows. The battle is over, and Josh's body relaxes, still worn, not the powerhouse it used to be before the accident.

The battle is over, Josh thinks, forgetting about the war.

He sleeps.

\--

When Josh blinks back into consciousness that afternoon, he feels relief. His breathing slows, along with his heartbeat, and he can finally anchor himself to comfort, reality, soft sheets and sunshine.

His night was dreams of muted Death Cab tunes, of burning rubber, of broken glass embedded in skin.

The nightmares have become routine at this point, but the new passenger in the car gave him chills, new heart palpitations.

The form beside him, with mangled limbs and an empty gaze, was Tyler's.

Waking up, sweat-soaked, jaw sore from grinding, is a relief, a release from the prison cell of his unconscious mind.

Waking up next to Tyler is a relief.

Tyler is already up and hunched over his ukulele. He's humming. He's scribbling. Before he notices Josh stirring next to him, he mutters something about space ships.

"Are you writing about my costume?" Josh says, voice heavy with sleep.

Tyler nearly jumps out of his skin.

"Didn't know you were up," he says, not bothering to look up from his smudged notebook.

Josh tries to place a hand on Tyler's back, but Tyler leans away.

Still scribbling, he mutters, "Sorry."

When Josh doesn't say anything, he adds, "Sorry, I need to concentrate."

Even though Tyler can't see, Josh nods.

He glances at the digital clock. 2:06pm. Even though he doesn't want to leave the warm cocoon of his covers, he pulls himself firmly into the cool air of the apartment.

"Shit," he says, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes as quickly as possible. "I have a student at three."

He grabs the nearest shirt from the scattered pile around the bed. A quick sniff deems it suitable and he slips it over his head.

"First one in a while?" Tyler mumbles absentmindedly. "We're dying with every…" he whispers under his breath, make a note in his journal.

Josh nods again, again unseen.

As he pulls socks on his feet, Josh remembers the evening before. He places a hand on Tyler's back, ignoring the twitch under Tyler's skin.

"Are you okay?" he says. "After… what happened last night?"

"I'm fine," Tyler says. He glances over and sees Josh's skepticism, his raised eyebrows and wrinkled brow. He gives a wry smile. "Really, Josh. I'm alright. Slept it off, thanks to your Ambien. Go, have fun with your tutoring. When you get back, we can work out a beat to this song."

When Josh doesn't move, he pokes out his tongue and says, "Get out, rascal."

Josh shoves him gently and says, "Whatever," but even shuffling out of the room as fast as he can doesn't hide the grin on his face.

\--

When Josh walks into the cold autumn evening, he's smiling.

After his months and months of hiatus, Josh had almost forgotten his love of teaching.

Breaking down the concept of drumming to something simple, something children could understand was a sort of healing balm to him.

Seeing his little friend, Jake, tap out a disjointed "boots and cats" rhythm gave Josh a full sense of pride.

Josh feels warm, despite the crisp air.

As he's pushing his bike out of Jake's parents' driveway, he pulls out his phone to ask Tyler if he should swing by the gas station to pick up any groceries.

His heart jumps at the sight of eight unread messages. They're all from Tyler.

He opens them and a chill more biting than the air around him washes over his limbs.

Josh taps out a quick, "Tyler, what's going on?" but he doesn't wait for a response. It doesn't matter. He tosses his phone in the basket in front of his bike and leaps on the seat, pedaling until his lungs catch fire and his legs groan.

It doesn't matter. Josh is hardly aware of his body. He has to get home.

He watches his body pedal to the entrance of their apartment complex. He watches his body kick away the bike and sprint for the door.

He watches his hands shake and fumble with keys.

His body stumbles through the doorway.

"Tyler?" Josh's throat croaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behind the scenes fun info: The texts are a mixture of things pulled from certain forums (I can't reveal too much), old texts of mine and a cry-typing generator (haha). 
> 
> Anyways, sorry.


	4. Four

Mechanically, Josh marches to the bedroom. 

He knows where Tyler will be. 

He watches himself enter the bedroom and hears everything disjointed, muffled. 

It's Tyler's own piano piece looping endlessly through Audacity.

It's a harsh gurgling noise. 

It's Tyler's ragged breathing. 

Josh knows. 

Afraid of causing more damage, of startling Tyler, of sending him into stupor, Josh's body tiptoes into the fog. 

The room is dark, hazy, illuminated only by the light of Tyler's open laptop. 

Josh knows what the shadowy, heaving form beside it is. He doesn't need to check. He doesn't want to see the carnage. 

He pulls out his phone, mechanically, his more responsible autopilot taking the reigns. 

Josh dials 9-1-1 and hears his own voice talk to the operator. He doesn't know what he's saying; he can't focus on the words. It's something about an overdose, something about Ambien, something about breathing, still breathing, still alive. 

Josh knows, without glancing at Tyler's open Google search, without prying the prescription bottle from his hands, without feeling for a slippery pulse. 

Josh thinks he knows. Josh knows enough.

After he repeats his address for the second time, Josh hangs up on the woman, despite her plea to stay on the phone, despite her attempt to deliver more instructions. 

Josh feels himself returning to himself and he can barely stand the ice in his veins, the hot tears pooling in the corner of his eyes. 

He tentatively touches Tyler with a quivering hand, who only softly gurgles as a response. 

"Tyler," he whispers. He touches the foam leaking from the corner of Tyler's mouth, smearing it between his fingertips. He shivers because it feels so real, too real, and his chances of waking up with a start beside Tyler's peaceful form grow slimmer and slimmer with each passing moment. 

Josh doesn't wake up; Josh is awake. 

Now small, curled over, a little boy before a mountain, Josh rocks from toe to heel. 

He rocks and catches hot tears with his hands while Tyler's hand furls and unfurls, while he gurgles and rattles.

Josh doesn't make any further moves, afraid to cause further damage, afraid of making the scene even more real than it is. 

Flashing lights bring him back, make Josh functional again. When the doorbell chimes, he stands to get the door. 

\--

In the hospital, Tyler is a victim of an alien experimentation. With snake-like tubes winding out of nostrils, out of his mouth, attached to his veins, Josh can hardly recognize him. 

He doesn't like the switch in roles now. 

Josh shakes and shakes his leg and clings to Tyler's cold hand, waiting for anything, any sliver of information he can get, but for hours, the nurses and doctors buzz frantically to invade Tyler's form with tubes, inspect charts and screens, ignoring the pillar by his side. 

Finally, a blonde woman in a white coat saunters into the room. 

Josh thinks she's young, beautiful, an angel, a messenger. 

"Excuse me sir, are you a relative of Mr. Joseph?"

Josh nods, doesn't correct her. He's Tyler's blood by some definition. 

She extends her hand and gives his a weak squeeze, like it's something delicate. 

"I'm Dr. Black," she starts. "Mr. Joseph is stable now. We performed a gastric lavage earlier and we're currently monitoring his vitals. We're waiting on the results of a few blood tests, but Mr. Joseph's kidneys are probably healthy, yes? If there are no further complications, he'll make a full recovery. Ambien isn't nearly as strong as the sleeping pills of past generations." She gives a gentle smile. 

"As far as I know," Josh answers. He has no idea about the state of Tyler's kidneys. Most of the words swim around in his mind, not really taking hold, but he grasps the word 'recovery' tightly and worships it; Jenna is the angel, the messenger, surrounded by a harsh halo of fluorescent lighting. "Will I be able to take him home tomorrow?"

Dr. Black looks almost amused by the innocence of his question. "For cases like this, we're required to keep patients for an additional 72 hours."

"Cases like this?" Josh parrots, again not grasping the gravity of the situation. His mouth feels dry. 

Dr. Black purses her lips. 

"Attempted suicide. We have to assess the mental state of the patient to assure they won't harm themselves again. In a worst case scenario, we might transfer them to a psychia-"

Josh shakes his head immediately, furiously. "No," he interrupts. "It wasn't a suicide attempt." 

Dr. Black narrows her eyes and switches on a tone of authority. 

"Mr. Joseph swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills, and you're saying this wasn't a suicide attempt?"

Josh nods more calmly. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and taps open his recent messages. 

"Take a look," he says, passing the phone to her. 

She studies the screen, but her face doesn't soften. 

"This is hardly comprehensible," she says, shaking her head, returning the phone to Josh. "He was already under the influence when he sent these messages." 

Josh shakes his head. 

"He knew what he was saying," he says. "It wasn't suicide. He did his best to communicate that." Josh adds quickly, "I know him better than anyone here." 

Dr. Black can't really argue with that, but she doesn't give in. 

"Perhaps we should wait for Mr. Joseph to wake up so he can give us the full story. Does that sound fair?" 

Josh nods. 

"You'll see," he says. 

He squeezes Tyler's hand, assuring him, trying to assure him even in his sleep. 

\--

Tyler's laugh tinkles like marbles around the room. 

Josh isn't laughing, but he's smiling, smiling so wide with relief. Tyler is sentient again, Tyler's body has a spark inside it again. 

Josh feels pride, watching Tyler give Dr. Black a piece of his mind. 

"It wasn't a suicide attempt," he says, voice gravelly from the intrusion of tubes the night before, from the hours and hours of chemical sleep. 

Dr. Black's arms are crossed, eyebrows raised. Josh thinks she'll burst into a stern lecture any moment, but she remains cool. 

"You're telling me, Mr. Joseph, that you consumed a bottle of prescription sleeping pills without suicidal intention?" 

Tyler's laughing again, lively, wiggling his toes under the starched hospital blankets. 

"Well, doc, I'm sure you know one of the biggest side-effects of Ambien," he says, impish grin creeping across his face. "Amnesia- some people drive, cook, have sex after popping one of them, yeah? And they have no idea what they did until someone tells them or they wake up in the hospital. I took one and curled up in bed; what happened afterwards, I can't remember."

He shrugs matter-of-factly, still grinning at the apparent comedy of the situation. 

Dr. Black looks exasperated and shoots Josh a look, but he doesn't see. 

He's gazing at Tyler, so full of love, of hope, believing every word. 

Josh believes. Josh believes, ignoring what he knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey yeah, this was fast, and this one's kind of short; I had more, but this is where the chapter needed to end, you know? That's just how it be sometimes. 
> 
> Stay tuned.


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for images of blood. Tread lightly if that sort of thing bothers you!

Tyler remains in the hospital for two nights. Josh takes the bus to and from the hospital to get a toothbrush, a clean change of underwear. He does his best to rest, but without Tyler's soft scrawling into the early light, he suffers.

Sleep is light, spotty. It blurs between waking and dreaming.

Sometimes, the other passenger in the car, the vessel for his nightmares, is Tyler, frothing and gurgling.

Sometimes, he wipes away the white foam from his mouth and smiles and says, "What happened afterwards, I can't remember."

Sometimes the foam is dark red, sometimes he won't say anything at all.

And Josh, with his legs twisted and knotted within the wires of the dashboard, he can't move, he can't scream.

_I need you so much closer._

Josh arrives at the hospital on the third morning looking like straw.

Tyler looks stronger each morning. When Josh arrives, he's always shooting shit with the nurses, kicking his feet like a child under the sheets.

"Can't wait to get out of here," he says to the plump older lady helping unhook him from one of the snakes keeping him in bed. They're disappearing daily, and now only one serpent remains.

"I can only imagine, Mr. Joseph," she says, motherly, but detached. "We're so glad you're feeling better."

"I'm doing just fine, but I can't wait until you guys stop feeding me charcoal. Haven't shit since I got here."

The nurse huffs.

Josh huffs from the doorway.

"He's a charmer, isn't he?" the nurse says, scuttling out of the room before Josh can answer.

Tyler smiles.

"You here to take me home? Knight in white?" he says, wrapping fingers around the pillar of his saline drip.

Josh says, "Yeah," and crosses the room to take Tyler's arm.

Before seeking out Dr. Black, Josh leads him to the restroom.

\--

At home, much like Josh after his recovery, Tyler is all smiles. He's happy, happy to be home, happy to be safe.

Upon crossing the threshold of the apartment, Tyler slings his arms around Josh's neck and buries himself there, home, finally home.

"I'm so glad to be here," he murmurs into the hollow of Josh's collarbone. Josh buries his nose into Tyler's hair, scratchy from cheap antiseptic soap, scentless, but so warm, so alive.

Josh blinks away tears, not ready to reveal all his tenderness. He kisses Tyler's head, and moves to plaster his face when he pulls back.

Tyler laughs, gives Josh a playful shove.

"Down boy," he says. "Let's have some of that chow, yeah?"

Josh is still entranced, still heavy-hearted, but he hands the bag of fast food to Tyler.

\--

Tyler is alive, bright behind the eyes, but his body is still fatigued. After they munch on soggy taco shells, supplied at a discount by his coworkers, he asks Josh to help him to the bedroom. Josh is his nurse now.

Quietly, while tucking him into bed, Josh says, "Why did you take a sleeping pill in the afternoon?"

Tyler's eyes are already shut. His two fans of dark lashes flutter.

"Wanted to rest," he lies.

Josh nods and believes.

He heads to the dresser to ready himself for bed, even though it's still light outside. It doesn't matter. Josh needs the rest, and now he can, with Tyler real, alive, breathing beside him.

Josh empties the garbage out his pockets. He finds the card Dr. Black slipped him as Tyler emptied his locker of clothing, personal belongings. It's for a psychiatrist. His specializations list anxiety, addiction, depression. Josh bites his lips, scans the card front and back.

He bites the card and tears it in two. He tosses the two pieces off to the side. They drift, like dry leaves, into the trash can.

Josh sheds his pants and crawls under the sheets, pulling Tyler tightly against him.

Their breathing stills and synchronizes.

Josh dreams of cars and gore.

\--

For a while, Tyler gets rest.

For a while, Tyler returns to work, not looking sallow and crumpled from hours and hours of compulsive late night study.

The stacks of books gather dust.

The scratch-scratch-scratch and the tap-tap-tap of Tyler filling margins to the brim doesn't pull Josh in and out of sleep.

For a while, Josh gets rest.

His dreams quiet down, and Tyler fades from them entirely. Sometimes, he taps on the window, a grin on his face, and Josh pulls his legs out of the wreckage.

For a while, Josh dreams of cars cruising without crumpling. Sometimes, he gets out of his car and stepping down jerks him awake, but he's not breathless and shaken.

Tyler and Josh orbit around one-another like two suns, giving and taking warmth.

Tyler stops asking questions. Josh thinks, _he knows. He knows now_.

For a while, Tyler tosses songs about empty skies and twisting and shouting. Instead, one day, he pulls Josh into his room after an afternoon of tutoring, and tells him to listen for a moment.

"This one's for you," he says, bright, beaming. Josh wants to hop and skip, seeing Tyler so eager and proud of himself, like a child bringing home an honors report card.

Tyler sings about loveliness, tapping out bouncy chords to accompany him. Josh bounces his knee, taps his leg, already finding the rhythm.

During the final verse, Josh's hand creeps to Tyler knee, still tapping, still adding steady beats and fills.

When Tyler's final repetition of "Cobwebs and flies come out" ends, his voice raspy from singing and shouting, Josh traps his lips in a kiss.

Tyler smiles against his mouth.

He pulls away to say, "Did you like it?"

Josh nods.

"Love it," he says. "Love you."

Tyler turns red.

He says, "Let me take you on a ride."

Josh kisses him and kisses him, hands creeping higher and higher.

\--

It's early one morning when Josh's alarm pulls him out of sleep. Finally back to work teaching the neighborhood kids about the basics of drumming and distrustful of tendency to oversleep, he sets the alarm for 8am.

It's 8am and his alarm his blaring, and Josh jolts.

Josh doesn't jolt because of the alarm.

He jolts because of the sensation of wetness, stickiness in the bed.

He jolts because of the strong smell of iron, a note of sweetness that evokes nausea.

Josh awakens to a horror movie, a scene too imposing to be a phenomenon of hypnopompia blurring old nightmares into his waking state.

Sunlight bathes the room and all Josh can see is red, red, red, all Josh can feel is red, red, red.

Tyler is pale beside him, his breathing shallow.

He's resting with his wrist against his face, nose against his pulse, like usual.

He looks so quiet, so serene, like usual, except for the red, red, red staining Tyler's face, smeared across his nose, still wet but already tacky.

Tyler looks like he's nosing his pulse, nosing open a deep gash, creeping down his wrist, down his arm.

Josh's heartbeat thrums in his ears. Bile creeps up his throat. He reaches over to shake Tyler, to check for life, to snap himself awake, when he hears crumpling under Tyler's body.

He reaches under Tyler, so warm, still warm from sleep, and blood smears across the paper.

Josh scans the words, hardly able to focus.

His hands quake, his fist curls around the page until he destroys it.

Josh sees red, only red, as he moves to shake Tyler awake.

"Tyler," he says, rattling Tyler by his shoulder.

He's rough, too rough.

Tyler blinks, bleary.  
.  
His breathing weary, he says, "Josh." He tries to lift his hand to stop Josh from jostling him, but his hand wilts. He groans softly.

Josh sees red. He can hardly control the sparks shooting around inside him.

"Tyler, what the fuck did you do? Why?" Tears catching up with the heat inside of him, Josh repeats, "Why? Why? Why? Why-"

Tyler interrupts his chanting.

"Josh," he says softly, weakly. "I have to… I had to… it has to mean something, all of this. I didn't see anything last time, I forgot it all, you know, you know how Ambien makes you forg-"

Josh spills over before Tyler can finish.

"Do you think all of this is meaningless just because you didn't see angels and some fucking pearly gates while you toed the line?" Josh's words are so sharp that spittle hits Tyler's cheek with every other word.

This time, Tyler begins to cry. The tears are thin, but they hit the pillow and feather out his drying blood.

Josh gathers up the sheets, and presses them to Tyler's arm. Tyler whimpers and kicks his feet.

"Keep that there," Josh instructs. He pulls himself off the mattress.

"It's not… I don't want to die, Josh, I knew you'd be here, you'd help me, you're-"

Josh, with his back turned, he says, "I can't always be here." He toes on shoes and pulls a hoodie over his shirt to hide he carnage.

For the first time in months and months, he grabs his car keys.

Out in the car, Josh emits a scream inside his sealed little vessel. A woman passing on her morning jog eyes him, gapes into his open mouth, but passes without a word.

Josh can't see her. Josh can hardly see. His breathing is sharp, fast, shallow. He turns the key and the engine sputters to life.

Its rumbling makes Josh's head burn, ache. It's too loud. Everything is too loud, too tight. He feels like he's inside a coffin, like he's digging his nailbeds raw with how fiercely he's gripping the steering wheel.

\--

When Josh returns, he feels hundreds of years older. He feels like an empty crisp packet.

But in his arms, he has supplies. In one big grocery bag, he has gauze, antiseptic, ointment. Just in case, he has skin glue.

Tyler's sitting upright in the bed, sheets still pressed against his arm. The wreckage hasn't spread, but Tyler looks paler, his eyes look darker.

When Josh enters the room, tears spill again. Tyler's mouth twitches to life, curling into a small smile.

"I'm so glad you're here," he says.

Josh doesn't answer, but he crosses the room to unload his first aid kit. He sits on the bed, the dip in the mattress causing Tyler to slide towards him.

Tyler huddles for warmth.

Josh starts to peel the sheets off his arm, and Tyler braces for impact.

"I'm not going to call an ambulance," Josh finally says.

Tyler nods.

"Don't," he whispers.

"You can't lie about this one," Josh says, pausing to tear packaging open with his teeth. "They'll put you away." He's mumbling, so tired, so tired from driving, from everything.

Tyler nods again, this time spilling tears prematurely. Josh has antiseptic. Tyler readies himself for the sting.

"Thank you," he whispers.

And Josh dribbles isopropyl alcohol into his wound.

\--

For a while, Tyler goes back to reading.

For a while, he reads and reads and scribbles and scribbles.

This time, it's not anthologies about psychedelics, it's not firsthand stories detailing the mysticism of near death experiences. It's his Bible.

He highlights passages and his pens bleed through the fine paper. This time, it's only ink.

For a while, Josh doesn't rest well.

This time, he's not being jabbed awake by shooting pains and the havoc of shattered glass.

Mostly, he squints, opens an eye to peer over at Tyler.

Sometimes, Tyler nods off in his searching, not as fervent as before. He drools onto the page and Josh watches and watches.

Everything's quiet.

Everything's quiet between them.

Josh likes to peep in on the pages when Tyler's breathing stills.

Tonight, Tyler's finger points to Isaiah.

"Your dead will live; Their corpses will rise" is boxed in by a fine line.

Josh kisses the back of his hand, and falls asleep.

In the mornings, Tyler drifts out of bed quietly. He tiptoes around Josh, allowing him to get a few more moments of shut-eye while Tyler readies himself for work.

Like a friendly ghost, he leaves Josh a simple breakfast. He leaves him notes, black and white, of love.

For a while, Josh pockets them. He runs his thumb over them while he listens to children drum.

Everything is quiet.

\--

On hot summer nights, Tyler always keeps the windows open.

It's late autumn, so the moment Josh steps in the door and feels the chill of the apartment, he knows something is wrong.

Tight with unease, he wanders to the bedroom.

When he sees Tyler, he drops his bag and toes off his shoes.

He shuffles quietly into the bedroom, everything dark and still around him, save for soft creaking.

His knees creak with it.

"Are you happy now, Tyler?"

His voice becomes part of the icy breeze.

"Now you know what I saw."

He wipes a hand over his face, willing the tears to come.

His face contorts. Painful, dry. The well of emotions won't come. The lump in his throat feels like a tumor.

"You fucking idiot," he spits, the curse cutting the stillness of the room. It cuts open something inside him, and Josh rattles with a sob.

"Now you know that there's nothing."

He wraps his arms around Tyler's body and it's so cold, suspended from the ceiling fan.

The creaking becomes louder with Josh's impact.

"I didn't see anything except darkness. I didn't feel anything except fear, and then nothing," he says, dirtying the front of Tyler's shirt with tears, spit, snot. "It changed me, because I knew I had to make the best of life-"

His voice trembles, chokes with every word, and soon he sounds more like a wailing animal than a man.

"I didn't tell you because it scared the shit out of me," he continues, his voice starting to become incomprehensible. It doesn't matter. Tyler isn't listening. "I didn't want to rob you of your faith, I wanted to let you stay hopeful."

He buries his face so deeply into Tyler's chest, he can hardly hear himself.

"I thought you knew, I thought you saw."

He squeezes Tyler's body until he thinks he can hear ribs cracking.

"I should have stopped you,"

And,

"It's my fault,"

And,

"There's nothing, Tyler, there's nothing."

His voice is soft like the breeze.

Something jolts.

The creaking stops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really did my best to imitate Tyler's handwriting. I hope the addition of my image wasn't too... tasteless? It felt like something that needed to be added. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys don't hate me?! <3 
> 
> We can talk about this over on tumblr dot com too: stalk-softly
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and the kind comments y'all have left so far!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope everyone enjoyed so far. <3 I've already written a little bit of every chapter, so I know where this is going... trust me, please.


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